The Consultant
by DeadHeartbeats
Summary: When a young FBI agent and a notorious criminal are forced to work together, it's destined to leave some sort of tension.
1. Chapter 1

"**I've always liked the minds of criminals, they seem similar to artists." ~** Richard Linklater

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><p><strong>The Consultant<strong>

Dead man walking

"Mom? - Dad?"

"Kitchen."

Elena put her bag down next to the stairs and lost her jacket on the way to the kitchen. She found her mother in front of the stove, the same place she always found her whenever she came home from school.

"Hi, Mom."

"Sweetie, there's something for you on the counter." Miranda turned around with a beaming smile, pointing her spatula to the granite countertop. "It came with the mail this morning."

Elena frowned and started walking to the back of the kitchen. A gasp left her throat as she found the white envelope waiting for her, the sender making her heart drum in her chest. She looked at her mother in awe.

"Go on." Miranda turned the stove off and came to stand next to her daughter. "Open it."

"Shouldn't we wait for Dad?"

"You know where to find him."

She nodded and walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, finding the one door in the house that was usually closed. Her father's office was off limits to anyone who lived outside the house, and even if you lived in it, you couldn't enter without him being in there. Grayson Gilbert had been an FBI agent for the past twenty years; some said he was one of the best, other said he was one of the toughest, she said he was the one that was the most obsessed.

"Dad?" She knocked timidly on the door, finding her mother next to her. "Can we come in?"

She pushed the handle down when a muffled 'come in' reached her ears. With the white envelope clutched to her chest, she looked around the room; finding papers scattered all across the floor, maps with marked places hanging on the walls.

"Something wrong?"

Her father turned around in his chair, leaving the papers on his desk for what they were. Her mother squeezed her shoulder and gave her a push forward in the direction of her father. Grayson was a good man and a good father but to be honest the last few years it was as if he wasn't really there anymore. He spend his days at the office or in his home office, caught up in the ongoing investigation. Elena had grown up between these papers, between the investigation that now ruled her father's life.

"There's a letter from Georgetown." she shrugged nervously, biting her lip. "I thought maybe we could open it all together."

"Do you want me to catch you if you faint?" Grayson stood up and chuckled softly. "Go on, open it."

"Don't let me hit the ground, okay?"

"I'm sure it's good news, hun." Grayson came to stand next to her and gave her a nudge. "You've worked hard, they'd be honored to have someone like you."

"But what if I don't get in?"

"Let's not think about that now." Miranda gave her arm a squeeze. "Just open the envelope and if you weren't accepted, then we'll find you another school."

"I don't want to disappoint you."

"You won't."

She teared up as both her parents spoke at the same time. They always had her back, always would have. She was their little girl and whatever she decided, they would support her. Even though her father wasn't always there, he was there when she needed him, he was by her side whenever a new dream came to her mind, he was there when she tried to fulfill those dreams. And in the end that was what mattered, the support, the love, the endless feeling of family.

"Here we go."

Her hand trembled as she ripped the upside of the envelope open and pulled the white expensive paper out of it. Her heartbeat was the only sound in the room as she folded it open and started reading the golden letters.

"I got in." she clapsed her hand over her mouth, jumping like a little girl. "I got in!"

"Congratulations, Elena." Miranda hugged her tightly, jumping with her through the small office. "I knew you would get in."

"Can I congratulate my daughter too?"

She entangled her limbs from her mother's and turned around to her father, falling into his arms. He squeezed her in his embrace while tears started to form in her eyes. He hushed her soft sobs and kissed her forehead, his gray eyes shimmering.

"I'm so proud of you, Elena." he stroked her cheek affectionately. "I couldn't imagine a better daughter."

"I'm going to be an FBI agent like you, Daddy." she jumped back in his arms, snorting unladylike. "I'll help you catch the bad guys."

"At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm still looking for this guy when you graduate." he rubbed her arm and pulled away from her embrace. "I've never seen a case like this."

"How's it going?" she sat down on his desk and looked down at the file he was studying. "Did you get any closer?"

"I'm still not a step closer to him as the day I started chasing him." Grayson shook his head and closed the file. "He knows how to disappear, every time we get closer, he goes further away."

"You've been chasing him for four years." Elena bit her lip and shrugged. "Maybe it's time to give up."

"My sweet Elena." Grayson ruffled her chocolate brown hair, chuckling. "Once you're an FBI agent, you'll learn that you never give up before you have a criminal in handcuffs."

"But let's say you still haven't found him in ten years?" Her brown doe eyes searched for his. "What then?"

"Then I'll still be looking for him in ten years." Grayson shrugged indifferently. "I opened this case and I'll be the one to close it."

"Do you think you'll ever catch him?"

"He's the smartest criminal I've ever seen." Grayson's lips formed a hard line. "But he's only twenty-six and he'll make a mistake one day, when he does, I'll catch him."

"Maybe you should let me look for him when I'm an agent." she smiled smugly. "Some female charm might pull him in."

"I don't want to see my seventeen-year-old daughter anywhere near one of the biggest criminals America has ever seen." he tapped her nose and sat back down in his chair. "We'll talk about this again when you know how to use a gun."

"Has he ever killed someone?"

"No." Grayson shook his head. "But he's still young and they always start out small, maybe one day he'll kill someone."

"You won't let that happen, right?"

"Not if I can help it." Grayson patted her knee, sighing. "And if I don't catch him, then I guess you'll have to."

She got up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her cheek resting against his. This was her father, the man that guided her through life and the greatest example someone could ask for. She wanted to follow in his footsteps and do exactly what he did, protecting innocent people from those that could cause them harm.

"Don't worry, Daddy." she pecked his cheek and hugged him tightly. "I'll catch Damon Salvatore."

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><p><strong>7 years later<strong>

"Agent Gilbert, FBI." she held her badge up in front of the security guard. "I'd like to speak to the lead investigator."

"He's inside watching the security tapes."

She ducked under the yellow tape and entered the old building, her heels clacking on the concrete floor. A few nods and smiles were exchanged as she walked past the other agents in the building, their curious eyes lingering on her unfamiliar face.

She pushed the door from the security room open and found two men inside. The older one looked up at her over his shoulder and smiled slightly, pushing himself up to meet her in the middle. The younger man with green eyes and sandy-brown hair eyed her suspiciously; his mouth forming a hard line, his eyes traveling over her form, starting at her long silk brown hair to her doe eyes and further down to the white blouse and skinny black jeans she was wearing.

"You must be Elena Gilbert." The older man with green eyes and brown hair extended his hand to her. "D.C. Informed me you would be coming in."

"Why did they sent an agent from D.C?" The younger man spoke up and came to stand next to the other one. "We can handle this."

"They didn't sent me here, I came here myself." she straightened her jacket and smiled smugly at the younger man. "Why? Are you threatened by me?"

"I used to work with your father." The young man cleared his throat. "He told me you wouldn't be coming back to New York anytime soon."

"Obviously, he was wrong."

"Excuse Stefan, agent Gilbert." The older man interrupted their conversation. "We're glad that you decided to come back home, my name is Elijah Michaelson, I'll be your supervisor."

"Nice to meet you, agent Michaelson." she shook his hand and pointed her gaze at the man beside him. "And you are?"

"Stefan." he extended his hand, his green eyes hardening. "Stefan Salvatore."

"Salvatore?" she cocked her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifting up. "As in Damon Salvatore?"

"They're brothers." Elijah's gaze switched between hers and Stefan's. "They're complete opposites though."

"You can say that." Elena let her eyes travel over Stefan's form, clacking her tongue. "One becomes a cop, the other a criminal."

"Stefan's the lead investigator in this case." Elijah turned back to the monitor. "He should be able to solve this whole thing quickly."

"Before you ask," Stefan held his hand up as she was about to speak. "We might be brothers but that's only on paper, I never knew Damon."

"If you don't know him, then how are you supposed to find him?"

"And you do know him?" Stefan's green eyes followed her as she walked over to the files on the desk. "Last time you were in New York was seven years ago."

"I grew up with Damon, that's more than you can say." she flashed him a grin before opening one of the files on the table. "My father was obsessed with him, for years Damon was the only thing we talked about."

"Did you ever meet him in person?" Stefan smiled smugly. "Because he becam..."

"I know what he became." she threw the file back on the table. "And I don't approve of it, he's a criminal, he belongs behind bars."

"Your father thought..."

"Like I already said... my father was obsessed with him." she focused her hard eyes on Stefan, making him take a step back. "Even after he caught him, he couldn't let go of him."

"We don't know how he escaped." Elijah changed the subject, breaking the tension. "The surveillance videos tell us he just walked out the front door in a guard's uniform but we don't know how he pulled it off."

"I'm not interested in how he did it, he can tell us that once he's back where he belongs." Elena looked up and arched her eyebrow at the two men. "I want to know why he escaped, he only had three months to go before he would be out."

"Damon might have been convicted but he hadn't been in prison for over three years until two months ago when your father di..."

"I know what happened." she snapped at him before he could finish his sentence. "But even someone as smart as Damon wouldn't escape without a reason if he only had another three months left of his sentence."

"Do you know why he escaped?" Stefan came to stand next to her, looking over the file. "If there's a reason... why don't you enlighten us?"

"Why don't you find him?" she smacked the file against his chest so he was forced to grab it. "So he can tell us that reason."

"Why are you even here?" Stefan grabbed her arm when she tried to walk past him. "You're some hotshot in D.C., why are you back here?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I want one of America's biggest criminals back behind bars?"

"It's hard to believe that it's the reason you came back here after seven years."

"Maybe I just want to see if he still has it after all these years," Elena's eyes hardened, turning away from the ones that were looking at her. "I want to see if he's still the criminal that my father admired, I want to know how long it will take me before I catch him, I want to put him in a cell and let him rot in there for the rest of his life."

"Your father used him differently."

"My father was a fool." she clenched her teeth together, locking her eyes with Stefan's green ones. "He let Damon make fun of the system and him."

"The arrangement between your father and Damon..." Elijah came to stand between their bodies. "It solved a lot of cases."

"Damon belongs behind bars." she straightened her shoulders, locking her eyes with Elijah's. "And it's exactly where I'm going to put him, because we both know that even if you send a whole team after him, you won't find him and you won't catch him."

"And you will?"

"I won't stop chasing him until he's back where he belongs."

"Why did you really come back, Elena?" Stefan made her turn around again. "Because you want to be a hero like your father and catch one of the biggest baddest criminals we've ever seen?"

"No." she clenched her teeth together. "Because you screwed up and I won't watch you let him escape into the sunset."

"Why don't you just tell us why you're really here?" Stefan shrugged indifferently, letting out a hard laugh. "We all know why."

"You really want to know why?"

"Yes, please tell us the truth."

"Because my father took a bullet for him."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, please leave a review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"**Crime generally punishes itself." ~**Oliver Goldsmith

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><p><strong>The Consultant<strong>

Pay your debt

"I thought I'd find you here."

"They wouldn't even let me attend his funeral."

He crouched down in front of the grave, the tombstone in front of him carved with the name of the man he spend the last three years with. That man lay there because of him, because of a bullet that had been pointed at him. He made a friend out of the man that used to be his worst enemy, the one he ran away from but eventually ran to.

"Grayson was always the most human of them all."

His blue eyes snapped to the man beside him, his gray eyes filled with wisdom, his sandy-brown hair ruffled and the sun making it shiny. He ran his fingers through his messy black raven hair and took a deep breath, the sound ripping through the quiet morning.

"I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye, Ric." his voice broke, his breathing shaky. "One minute he was dying in my arms and the next I was back in prison."

"It wasn't your fault Damon." Alaric shrugged, his lips forming a pout. "You couldn't have done anything to help him, the bullet went straight through his heart."

"That bullet was meant for me." his blue eyes locked on Alaric's gray ones. "I would have been six feet under by now if he hadn't jumped in front of me."

"It was his choice." Alaric came closer and put his hand on Damon's shoulder. "You'd have done the same for him."

"But his life had still meaning." Damon shook his head, looking down at the green grass on top of his friend's body. "He had a wife and daughter to live for, I have nothing."

"You were his friend." Alaric squeezed his shoulder, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. "You were part of his family, he loved you like he would have loved his own son."

"And in the end he died for me like he would have died for his son." Damon stood up straight again, turning his head over his shoulder. "But I refuse to believe he died for nothing."

"She's back."

"I know." he looked up at his old friend, nodding. "I knew she'd come back."

It had been seven years since he last saw her, the daughter of the man that had made it his life purpose to catch him. Her brown doe eyes printed into his memory, her long chocolate brown hair swaying in the wind, her wide smile dominating every male's life.

"You think she still blames you?"

"I'm sure she still blames me." he gave Alaric a crooked smile. "And she'll probably still blame me when I find her father's killer."

"We're going to need some help, buddy." Alaric put his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. "It's not going to be easy and especially not when every cop in New York is looking for you."

"We're going to need help from someone on the inside." he pouted his lips together, staring at his friend's grave. "That's why I had to escape, to get her back here."

"You couldn't have send her a letter, maybe?" Alaric held his arms up, questioning. "Hey your father was murdered and you have to help me catch his killer?"

"Elena and her father had a few things in common but the biggest thing of them all was their obsession with me." he pointed to himself, his blue eyes boring into Alaric's. "If I had send her a letter she probably wouldn't even have read it because she wants nothing to do with me. The only thing she wants is for me to rot in prison for the rest of my life. So the easiest way to lure her out is by me being exactly where she doesn't want me, on the outside."

"So you had to escape to get her back to New York?"

"When are you going to get it?"

He threw his arms in the air, chuckling, enjoying the fresh air that filled his lungs. His blue eyes watched Alaric's mouth fall slightly open, his gray eyes looking for answers in his blue ones.

"She didn't come back to look for her father's killer." he stepped backwards, away from his friend. "She came back to find me."

"And what will she do when she finds you?"

"She'll catch me."

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><p><strong>7 years earlier<strong>

"Excuse me." she dropped her bag on the floor, stirring her steaming cup of coffee. "Do you mind if I sit down? I'm waiting for my friend but all the other seats are taken."

"It's a free country."

She glanced briefly at him as he turned another page of the paper he was reading, not even glancing in her direction. She put her coffee down next to his and sat down on the chair in front of him, tapping her fingers impatiently, biting her lip. Her eyes darted through the packed coffee shop before they landed on the man in front of her, noticing the messy black hair, the hard jaw, the gray shirt that hugged all of his muscles, the small tattoo on the inside of his left arm.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Huh?"

Her breathing stopped for a second as he looked up at her, releasing the power of his ocean blue eyes on her face, his eyebrow arched, his perfect mouth slightly parted in confusion. She felt her heart drumming in her chest, her lungs squeaking as she tried to breathe again.

"You know..." she stuttered, wetting her lips. "This is New York, are you here for your work or to have fun?"

"Does it look like I'm having fun?"

"No. You look like you're bored." she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair. "But maybe if you tried to have a proper conversation with me I could change that."

"I doubt that."

"Oh yeah?" she cocked her head to the side. "Why is that?"

"Weren't you meeting a friend?"

He gave her the most annoyed look anyone had ever given her, a small V forming between his eyebrows, his red lips slightly pouting. He wanted her gone but she was glued to her chair, and although her whole body was frozen, the cup in her hands was trembling. She didn't know where she found her sudden bravery but keeping him talking seemed like a necessity now, because as much as he intimidated her, he intrigued her just as much. He did weird things to her belly, his voice made it quiver, his face made it knot, and his eyes – his eyes made it flutter.

"I am. But there's been an accident and she's running late." she watched his eyes return to the paper, not even acknowledging her friend's problem. "She's picking me up for class. I got into Georgetown too."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." she answered dryly, irritated by his disinterest. "It's art history. Which isn't even useful to me since I'm going to be an FBI agent."

"You think you don't have to take art history because you're going to join the FBI?" A devilish grin crossed his face as the blue orbs held her gaze. "What if you're chasing some art thief that only steals paintings from the Renaissance period and you have no idea how they look like? How will you anticipate his next move? How will you know it's his work if you can't even identify the era of the stolen painting?"

Baffled she stared at him, her lips lightly parting as she felt her breathing falter, drowning in the stare of that ocean in front of her. The flame in them faded and they became lighter again, resembling the New York sky on a sunny day. He dared her with those eyes, radiating a passion she'd never known. And now she had his interest, his focus point her sole being, the busy coffee shop fell to the background as they proceeded their staring competition. She wondered who was going to break first, and she didn't want it to be her. But at the same time it had to be her because she wouldn't be able to thread water forever, the strength would leave her legs, her determination would waver, and she'd drown in that ocean.

"That's why you have specialists and researchers." she mumbled, clearing her dry throat. "They would be out of a job if the agents knew everything themselves."

"Okay." he nodded with a small smile. "Look at it this way. The Guggenheim has a collection of over 7000 artworks. There are four million men living in New York. How will you ever find the right partner if you can't even choose your favorite artwork?"

"That's a totally different thing."

"It's not." he cut her off before she could say more. "Art teaches you what you like and dislike, it teaches you the difference between good craftsmanship and excellent one. You can't choose a partner if you don't even know what you're looking for. So my advice to you, go to the art history class and figure out what you like. Then the day you decide to tell a guy you love him, you'll know what your favorite artwork is and why it is, and you'll know why you love him."

"How did we go from _me_ detesting art history class to art deciding who's going to be my future husband?" she arched her eyebrow with a crooked smirk. "Seems a tad exaggerated, don't you think?"

"Well, I had to make a point." he let himself fall against the back of the chair, rolling his eyes. "Isn't that what teenage girls are all about? Finding the perfect boyfriend?"

"Not me." she clacked her tongue, shaking her head. "I'm going to Georgetown, I'm going to build out a career without some boyfriend holding me back. I have a plan you know, and a husband isn't in those plans for at least another ten years."

"Why Georgetown?"

No one had ever asked her, and she'd never thought about it. Georgetown, it had been on her mind since she was a little girl but she had no clue how it had become her focus point. Maybe because she'd visited Washington when she was little and she'd been impressed with the buildings, the White House, the Capitol, they were so different from the ones she saw in New York. There had been more space there, people didn't rush through the streets, they walked and enjoyed the day. But those were all things she could find somewhere else too. Georgetown had a beautiful campus, a great faculty, like other universities and she couldn't phantom what made it special to her. Except that her father had attended Georgetown, and he was an FBI agent now – he was everything she wanted to become.

"My dad went there and he's the best agent I know." she lifted her shoulders, as if it was obvious. "I want to be like him or even better. He's been chasing the same guy for four years now and he still hasn't caught him. So maybe he is not the best agent around."

"Or maybe that criminal is just the best one around." he shrugged indifferently, taking his cup from the table. "Who's he chasing?"

"Damon Salvatore."

Something flashed in those blue eyes as he paused a second from sipping on his coffee. She didn't miss how his jaw tightened and the muscles in his free arm flexed as he balled his hand into a fist. Before she could analyze the situation, he brought the coffee to his lips and put it back down again, smiling tightly as she watched him closely.

"Never heard of him." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Is he some kind of serial killer?"

"No." she rolled her eyes at the question. "He steals art, paintings, sculptures, old manuscripts, you name it and he steals it."

"Let's hope he doesn't start stealing young girls then." his white teeth pulled her attention. "Or you might be in trouble."

"That would make him a kidnapper and not a thief." she gave him a look as he smirked. "Besides, if he was a kidnapper then maybe somebody would know what he looks like. But they don't know, that's why they can't find him. It's like you said, there are four million men in this city and he could be any one of them."

"And your dad is looking for him."

"So am I." she put her best serious face on. "If my dad doesn't catch him, then I will. And he's going to be sorry when I do."

He leaned back in his chair, watching her with arms crossed in front of his chest, a smile playing on his lips as she took her coffee and started drinking from it again, watching him over the rim of her cup. The smile didn't fade, instead it got wider and it made a grin appear on her face too - absolutely content under his gaze, the butterflies in her stomach welcomed the attention.

"Elena?"

"Oh." Her head snapped around to see Bonnie practically running her way. "I guess that's my cue to go."

"Good luck catching that thief." he followed her frame as she got up from the chair. "I'll hear it on the news when you do."

"Thanks! You will."

She grabbed her bag from the floor and started towards her friend, crossing paths with a thirty-something with sandy-brown hair and gray eyes. He didn't take his eyes off of her until she walked out the door and the man was already sitting in the chair she'd just occupied. He leaned back in his chair for the upteenth time that day and smiled at the memory of the rambling teenage girl.

"Oh no. Not that look." Alaric put a finger in his face, shaking his head. "We have a job tonight, there's no time for you to get laid."

"It's not about that." he focused on his best friend and right hand. "But still, I need you to find out everything there is to know about her."

"And why are we suddenly interested in teenagers?"

"Because this one wants to catch me."

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><p><strong>I picked this story up again and will definitely be updating sooner in the future. So if you're interested in reading more, let me know in a review? <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

"**Life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal rather than the victim."** Bertrand Russell

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><p><strong>The Consultant<strong>

Right in front of you

Grayson Gilbert ran through the woods, dodging branches and stones that crossed his path. Sweat ran down his forehead, he wiped it away as he fired another shot at the man running a few feet in front of him. The man stumbled, clutching his leg as a bloodstain appeared on his jeans. Grayson Gilbert quickly yelled for the rest of the team as he pointed his gun at the man's head. The leaves ruffled as more and more agents surrounded the bleeding criminal. Grayson yelled his name, ordering him to turn around. The man slowly brought his hands to the back of his head and moved to face the agent that had been chasing him. And as his blue eyes came into focus– he whispered her name.

"Elena."

Her eyelids flew open, her chest heaving, sweat drops running down her face as she fought to catch her breath, as if she had been the one to run that marathon in her nightmare. A face hovered over her, a hand reaching out to wipe the damp strands of hair from her forehead. Her heart raged in her chest like when they'd been running after him in her nightmare – like when those blue orbs locked onto her brown ones.

"Nightmares are a side effect of sleeping pills."

He stood up and moved away from the bed, leaving her there speechless, her mind still foggy and too numb to comprehend what was happening here. Then she suddenly felt something scratching her wrists, a rope binding her arms together above her head, that same rope holding her legs captured against the mattress. She pulled on them, desperately trying to get loose but only feeling them tightening more with her every jerk.

"I was a Boy Scout, I know my knots." He grinned slightly as he watched her struggle on the bed. "Maybe this will convince you to get an alarm system."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She spat at him, eyes blazing. "How did you get into my apartment?"

"You seriously think a deadbolt is going to keep one of America's most wanted criminals from coming in?" He arched his eyebrow at her. "I'm offended."

"You could have knocked." She shrugged indifferently. "But then, you always lacked in the manners department."

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings?" He brought his hand above his heart while mock-pouting. "That's not very lady-like either."

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, I want to shoot you." She yanked on the ropes that held her captive. "Preferably with the bullet that killed my father."

"I'm sorry about what happened to your dad, Elena."

He seemed sincere and that made it all worse. Because he was to blame for her father's death, that bullet was meant for him. Yet, he was still standing here, holding her captive in her own home while he watched her from that chair in the corner of her bedroom. Those blue eyes made her remember too many things, they reminded her of the phone call she got when her father finally caught him, only to hear months later from other agents that her father had promoted that criminal to be his consultant. She'd hated the thought, she'd hated that he let him mock the system, she'd hated that she was in Washington and couldn't yell at him, but most of all – she just hated Damon.

"He's dead because of you." She whispered at the dark ceiling. "You better be sorry."

"I didn't want him to take that bullet." Damon clenched his teeth together. "He jumped in front of me and before I knew what was happening he was dying in my arms."

"Is that why you came here tonight?" She lifted her head from the pillow to look at him. "So you could tell me that it's not your fault?"

"No. Because I need your help to catch the guy that pulled the trigger."

"Unbelievable." Her body shook with laughter. "He's been a consultant for four years and now he thinks he's an agent. Leave catching the bad guys to me, Damon. I'll have you behind bars again soon enough too."

"Why are you so indifferent to his death?" Damon shot up from the chair. "Your father was shot, Elena. And the guy that did it is still out there. But the only thing you can focus on is putting me back in a shoebox!"

"There's always a pair in a shoebox. Maybe I should go after Ric too while I'm on it." She answered with a smug grin of her own. "We both know you can't miss him. I wonder how you survived jail in the first place without him by your side. Is that why he broke you out, because it was him that helped you escape, wasn't it?"

"I broke out because nobody is doing something." He threw his hands up in the air. "Why is nobody investigating his dead? Why doesn't his own daughter care about putting the man that killed her father behind bars? Why don't you care?"

"My father didn't care about me for seven years. Why should I care?"

"You have no idea how wrong you are about that." Damon whispered, sitting down next to her on the bed. "You were the one that didn't respond to his calls or emails, that was your choice. He still cared but you ignored him and your mom for seven fucking years, Elena. Have you even been to see your mom since you arrived?"

"I couldn't face them." She shook her head quietly. "Not after what I did."

"They don't know what you did."

"But I do know."

A pregnant silence lingered in the air as she lay there and he sat next to her side, watching the wooden floors of her apartment while she couldn't stop watching him. He'd become like a son to her father, the one he'd never had and always dreamed of, he was there to fill the empty void in her mother's heart that was left by her the day she moved to Washington. He'd been here for the past four years, squirming himself into the life of her family, wriggling himself into their hearts. And she hadn't wanted to call, because she didn't want to hear about him, she wanted to lock herself up in her dorm room and cry whole night. Because he'd been here for the past four years – and she hadn't been.

"Why are you here, Damon?" She asked gently, her voice hoarse. "What do you want from me?"

"There's a guy named Klaus." Damon shifted his attention back on her. "I want you to get me everything the FBI has on him."

"I can't just get you a file on someone you hold a grudge against." She arched her eyebrow at him. "Besides, if I see you without handcuffs, first thing I do is put them on you."

"Kinky." He smirked. "And I don't hold a grudge against the guy, the guy holds a grudge against me. That's why he tried to shoot me and that's why Grayson is six feet under. Do you see now why I want that file?"

"Why does he want you dead?"

"It's a long story."

"It's not like I'm going anywhere." She yanked the ropes again to make her point. "So how about you tell me a bedtime story?"

"I sold him out." Damon shrugged indifferently. "He used to work with me but then I started working for your father and I became a do-gooder so one day we got a case that had Klaus' work all over it."

"But he's not in jail..."

"No, we couldn't find him." Damon pressed his lips into a hard line. "But we did find his crew, two of his brothers and his sister. They're in jail because of me. Your father had no idea who Klaus was before I came along."

"So he wants to kill you because you sold him out?"

"He always had a terrible temper."

The way he shrugged it off made her want to rip his head off, make that Klaus guy's job easier. But then she would reach the opposite of what she was trying to gain. Because as much as she hated him, the thought of him dying made a lump form in her throat. She'd grown up with his name echoing between the walls of her house. She couldn't imagine a time where he hadn't been some part of her life – even though he hid in the shadows, his name was there, in her house – so he was there. He'd gotten older, becoming more part of her life with every year that passed. And the thought to replace the sound of his name with complete silence was unbearable.

"What will you do if I get you the files?" She lifted her head to look up at him. "Will you go on a murder rampage and get yourself killed?"

"Possibly."

"Damon."

"Elena." He mocked the tone of her voice. "Why do you care anyway? It's not like you wouldn't revel in my death."

"But I would hate it if someone else were to kill you." She gave him a pout. "Ruining my fun like that."

Something crossed his eyes, a shimmer she couldn't understand. He pulled his eyes away from hers and looked at the ground, smiling a sore smile that had something stab her insides. She didn't want him to die, that was the one thing she was willing to admit to herself. She wanted him in a jail, stuck behind bars for the rest of his life, for the rest of her life. Because when he was out, and they were in the same room, it made her do things she never wanted to be part of.

"I'll find you in forty-eight hours." He got up and walked towards the door of her bedroom. "Get me the files."

"You can't tell me what to do." She snarled, pulling the ropes. "I am not my father, I'm not your puppet. I won't die for you."

"You will get me the files."

"And what makes you so certain of that?"

"Because if you don't, you'll never know the answer to that question that haunts you." He theatrically waved his hands in the air. "How did Grayson Gilbert catch Damon Salvatore. And we both know you're dying to know."

He left her bound to the bed with those words lingering in the air. He knew she wondered, because nobody besides him and Grayson knew the truth, and Grayson never told her, neither did he. And she would never know if it was up to him, because admitting how he'd been caught would mean admitting a whole lot of other things he wasn't ready to fess-up.

"This is just like seven years ago." Alaric rounded the corner as he stepped out of Elena's building.

"This is nothing like seven years ago." He turned his back on his friend. "She hates me now."

"But you still can't stay away from her."

* * *

><p><strong>7 years earlier<strong>

"Why can't you just leave her alone?"

"She's the daughter of the lead investigator of my case." He spoke every word slowly to Alaric, like explaining it to a five-year-old. "It would be a shame if I left her alone."

"She's an innocent seventeen-year-old girl." Alaric threw his arms in the air. "What the hell would she know about your case?"

"Trust me on this, she's a daddy's girl." He cocked his head to the side with an arrogant smirk. "I bet Daddy tells her all about his new leads every night."

"And how are you going to get close to her without her finding out who you are?"

"I have no idea."

He was crossing the street before Alaric even had the chance to think of a reply. With one last look over his shoulder at his old friend, he opened the door of the bar and strode in, meeting the loud music and the smell of smoke and alcohol. He quickly scanned the room, finding her at the bar with a blonde on her right and the dark-skinned girl he remembered from the coffee shop on her left. She was showing too much cleavage for a seventeen-year-old, and that skirt was definitely not long enough, he wondered how she'd even gotten past her old man in that outfit.

"I bet your father doesn't know you're here."

He had the pleasure of watching her eyes go wide as she turned with a curious look. Those big brown eyes locked onto his and for some reason it formed a smile on his face as her mouth opened into a wide O. She stared at him, obviously curious and full of questions and he didn't want to answer a single one of them. Because not even he knew what he was doing here, he'd followed her, more than once in the past week since Alaric had given him her background check, but this was the first time he approached her – but it wouldn't be the last.

"My father doesn't need to know everything." She quickly recovered from her dazed state. "He'd probably freak out if I told him I talked to a stranger in the coffee shop."

"What if you would tell him that stranger followed you into a bar and bought you a drink?"

"He'd probably kill you." She gave him an innocent shrug. "But I can't tell him that, since my glass is still empty."

"I can change that." He smirked, biting his bottom lip. "If you promise to keep it between us."

"I can do that."

He sat down on the crutch next to her and ordered two glasses of bourbon, handing her one glass as he stared at her, watching her blush, noticing her hand trembling as she accepted the drink. She looked so confident just a few seconds ago, and now there she was, trembling like some innocent kid that had never seen the outside world before.

"So I have two guesses." He held his finger up between them. "One, you've never had bourbon before. Or two, you've never had an older guy hit on you."

"Or maybe it's number three." She laughed nervously. "A combination of both."

"I take it you don't get out much." He took a draft from his glass. "Or you'd be used to guys hitting on you."

"Is that what you're doing?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Because in that coffee shop you didn't seem really interested."

"I'm not a morning person." He shrugged indifferently. "So what's an innocent girl like you doing in a bar on a school night?"

"I am not that innocent." She rolled her eyes playfully. "We're just trying to have fun before we go off to college."

"I thought the fun started once you're in college."

"My best friend Caroline came up with the idea. She dragged me and Bonnie into this." She sipped on her bourbon, flinching at the bitter taste. "How does anyone drink this stuff?"

"It's a process that takes year." He smirked while taking the glass from her and downing it all at once. "I'm a master at it."

She watched him down the glass, the muscles flexing in his arm, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She'd never done this before, never talked to a stranger that she wanted to get to know. And she'd never been intrigued by a guy like she was now. Maybe she had been from the second she sat down on that chair across from him in the coffee shop, or maybe the alcohol was making her stare at him like a lunatic. Whatever it was, she couldn't stop the smile from breaking out on her face.

"So what kind of fun are you girls thinking about?" He put the glass down again on the bar. "Before the real fun starts."

"We made a list."

"Oh, really." A grin crossed his lips. "And what's on that list?"

"A few things." She started counting on her fingers. "One, get wasted at a bar. Two, hit on an older guy. And three, … I'm not going to tell you what three is."

"Does it involve you naked?"

"I'm not that kind of girl."

He'd come closer, maybe too close, because her breathing started getting heavier and her heart started drumming in her chest. He stared at her, with those eyes that could make any woman's knees wobble, and hers were doing just that now. She stared back at him, captivated by his presence like she'd been the first time she laid eyes on him. He quickly waggled his eyebrows at her and it went so fast that she almost missed it. This was dangerous territory and she knew, her father had warned her about these kind of men, the older guys that want to take advantage of young girls such as herself. But her father had never told her that those guys would have this effect on her, she'd thought she'd want to run away from the type, but here she was – practically throwing herself in his lap.

"Aren't you?" He smirked dangerously. "I think every girl is that kind of girl."

"I know what my favorite piece of art is now." She blurted out, freeing herself from the prison that were his eyes. "It's a painting."

"Really?" His eyebrows knotted together, intrigued. "Surprise me."

"It's a painting by Gustav Klimt, it's called…"

"The Kiss." He filled in for her, that damn smirk still present. "Typical choice, but not the worst."

"Well, you told me to figure out what I liked." She shrugged while lifting her arms in the air. "So I did."

She'd never cared what people thought about her, but then she'd never been overwhelmed by someone's spirit before like now. His words had somehow gotten to her, and they'd been a nagging feeling all day. So when she got home that night, she got on her computer and looked at all possible pieces of art she could find – until she'd found the one that touched her.

"You're a romantic." He concluded, shaking his head slightly. "Doesn't surprise me at all."

"Because I'm a girl?"

"No. Because you're the type that believes in love at first sight."

"How would you know?"

"I just do."

He knew. Because she'd chosen that painting for a reason, she'd pictured herself in the lovers' place, she pictured that girl to be her, she saw herself getting lost in someone else. It was the optimistic choice, she saw the love radiating from the piece, the intimacy they shared, maybe even the love they made. But she didn't realize the heartache that came with love, or the pain one suffered from falling in love, she'd never gotten a part of her soul ripped out – not yet anyway.

"So Elena, are you ready to go to my place?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hello everyone! I know I've been away for a while but it seems like my musie is finally working with me again! Leave me a review if you like? <strong>


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